No Happy Ending
by LackOfMonkey
Summary: [Oneshot] There are some things in this world that should just be kept silent with no happy ending.


Title: **No Happy Ending**

An Invader Zim Fanfiction composed by: Cassie Jennifer Bryant

Main Genre: Drama

Minor Genres: Angst, Mystery, General, Humor (slight at the end).

_**Rating/Warnings:**_ General Audiences (All Ages) - Open for all ages, but may be a difficult read for younger readers (11-). There is OOC within this fanfiction. If you dislike OOC entirely, please do not bother with this fanfiction. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I own the plot, Mr. Jones, and my own writing style. That is all I own. Invader Zim is copyrighted to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon. Don't sue me please, I'm just a fan looking for feedback...

**Begin Author Note:** It's been a tremendous amount of time, I know. If everyone even remembers me, I am entirely flattered. It has been perhaps more than a year since I have posted on fanfiction. What I bring back here is a puny one-shot I wrote a while ago. If you're an expert on vocab, this will be a short peice and a swift read haha. If people enjoy this fanfiction immensely, and wish for me to continue, please let me know via e-mail or a review will work as well. I am not sure where I would, exactly, proceed with in this fanfiction if suggested to continue, but I shall find a way.

Thank you to everyone who will review! If you flame, I will just see it as an unfortunate and pathetic attempt to peeve me. I appreciate constructive criticism, so please do pinpoint anything out that you notice or what I could do to improve my writing technique.

I as well will most likely struggle to revive another old Invader Zim fanfiction of mine called "Downloaded Personality". The writing is well eliminated, but the idea is still stuck in my brain and is bitching to get out haha. If you wish to know a summary, please do e-mail me. I'll be glad to send you one. Enough of my blabbing, here is the fanfiction! Please do enjoy!

_Please Read and Review! CCs are appreciated immensely!_

With Love,

Cassie Jennifer Bryant

* * *

Dib was always one who could never perfect the art of silence. He always had something to blab about; something to pester about that irked the senses. Today, though, it was different. The two figures, one fatherly and one adolescent, sat in an awkward silence, with only the comfort of the graceless metal chairs that barely supported them. 

Dib's father, Professor Membrane, sat in a feminine-like position, with his arms positioned close together and his hands clasping onto each other for dear life. The son sat silently, half yearning for the reason to why his father asked for a talk, and half in fear of terrible news. Finally, Professor Membrane placed an anchor to end the irritable silence.

"Son, I am worried about both you and your ignoramus head." Spoke the fatherly figure. He repositioned his goggles.

"What? Why? ... And my head is **not** that big!" Dib complained.

"Well, as you probably know, you are a poor and insane child."

"Um." The speechless Dib paused. "No. Not really"

"Oh, well, you are. Son, throughout the years I believed your whole 'alien' thing was just a phase, and you would become more into the study of _real_ science. Such as Super Toast!"

"But Da-"

Professor Membrane shushed him instantaneously. "Sh-sh-sh-sh! I decided that you will have an at-home counselor from now on. Of course I could just flush your brain of all paranormal memories you have, but the results could involve death or, worse, an exploded colon."

Dib sighed. "Dad, I know you're trying to 'help' but, paranormal study is my life! Aliens are _here_, Dad! One is already here, and I've been tracking him for the past two years now!" Dib initiated the power to his laptop. "I have all the information here! Just look at it with me for a secon-"

Dib focused his pupils upward in excitement, only to realize that he was abandoned by his father's interest. Dib sighed, placed his sharp finger on top of the power button, and pressed.

* * *

Two days passed by as slow as a cripple sloth. Dib lingered about the dull house, feeling detriment surround the light and paranormal passion within him. Sure, his father struggled many times before to bring his son to convert to the religion of "true" science, but never like this. To Dib's own face, his father called him poor and insane. It was obtainable that such harsh words would even cross the mind of a parent.

Dib paused. Was it worth doing all of this work when not even your own blood would believe you or respect you? The thought of considering withdraw was absurd, and Dib exterminated the idea. Saving the lives of loved ones would be worth it in the end, even if he could not apprehend the words "I am proud of you" currently from his father. Dib knew his father would say those five words to him someday; he just knew it.

Day three after the quarrel came around the corner rapidly. Luck seemed to be on Dib's side in Skool today. Zim was omitted in class, which meant a headache-free Dib for the time being. Gaz seemed to be less parsimonious to Dib than usual as well. Perhaps she, too, noticed the intense change in Dib's personality within the past days, and thought it was best not to bring him irritation. Dib chuckled at the idea of his younger sibling sparing him.

Home at last, and Dib jumped onto the sofa to see what was on the television. Hopefully this was the uprising from the short yet hurtful collapse in his life.

He knew his belief was completely incorrect when the mere sound of a single doorbell echoed throughout the corridors of the Membrane household.

* * *

"Ah! He's here!"

The voice of Professor Membrane was heard as soon as the doorbell's sound collapsed into a high-pitched memory. The door creaked open steadily, while Dib froze in his position. Gaz took notice to this and upon wise decision, she moved herself upstairs.

Professor Membrane greeted the mysterious stranger and offered to make him feel at home. Using common sense, the counselor obliged his offer and stepped inside in an abnormal fashion. "Take me to your Dib-son." Ordered the counselor kindly.

Obeying, Professor Membrane showed the counselor to Dib, who looked directly towards the counselor with intense brown eyes. He was a semi-tall, gruff man, with casual dress and raven black hair gelled up into a unique hairstyle. His walk was that of an intriguing swagger. If you were to turn catchy and upbeat music on, the counselor could walk perfectly in sync with it. He seemed interesting, but Dib was still displeased of the mere fact his father hired this complete and utter stranger to do the bidding of "curing" Dib's supernatural passion.

The counselor placed his "bag" off to the nearest surface. He placed his hand out as a greeting and grinned. "Hello there. I am Mr. Jones. I've heard so **MUCH** about you, and I'll do whatever I can to help you." The counselor then muttered something, but it was much too shallow for Dib to grasp. Suspiciously, Dib placed his hand out as well to curtly shake Mr. Jones's hand.

"I see you two are getting along just fine. Now, I'll be off." Professor Membrane stated with glee.

"But wait, aren't you going to be here with us?" Dib said anxiously.

Dib's father let out a deep laugh and departed.

As soon as Dib realized his father's presence was completely eliminated from the room, Dib stood up on the table as to show masculine strength over the petty counselor.

"I am on to you! I know your sick tricks that you'll try to make me reveal everything there is about me! I am **not** going to give in, do you hear me? I will always be there for the sake of our planet!"

The counselor steadied him with two hands motioning him to slow down. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there. I never said I was going to pry into your life, silly ea-" The counselor coughed for a brief moment, then looked up when he was finished. "I'm sorry, what was I saying?"

"Something about life." Dib replied.

"Ah yes. As I was saying, I never said I was here to get into detail about your personal life. I just want to get to know a little bit about you, first. Now, your father told me you were into paranormal studies."

"Yes. I am. I lo- wait. You're _prying_!" Dib gasped.

"No. You are mistaken. I just want your opinion." Mr. Jones responded pleasantly.

"Why do _you_ care?" Dib questioned in anger.

"Why don't I care?" Answered Mr. Jones with a raised eyebrow. Dib was at a loss of words. After a session of awkward silence, the boy jumped off the table, and sat down in a chair next to the sofa. The dedicated counselor took a stack of cyan and purple cards out of his tiny bag. "Want to play a game?"

"I'm not really good at card games."

"Me neither but let's give it a try."

Dib accepted cautiously.

What seemed like an eternity passed by, and both the counselor and the adolescent seemed to be having an adequate game. Dib defeated the counselor most of the time, which brought the counselor great despair, but then immediate laughter afterwards. There was small talk between the two soon-to-be cronies, but nothing important was gained or acknowledged.

After the fifth game of Bull, the counselor paused. "See, you're not that bad." Complimented the counselor with a simper.

"Yeah I guess. I've never realized how easy card games can be!"

"Yes, they are indeed easy. I've never been that much of an expert though. I don't really do stuff like this on my spare time."

"Me neither. Heck, most of the time I'm either in my room or at Zim's base."

"Zim?" The counselor took immediate interest.

"Yeah. He's this alien that's planning on taking over the world! It's up to me to make sure he doesn't try anything that'll destroy our planet!"

"He sounds like an interesting guy."

"Interesting guy?! Are you kidding me?! He's _evil_! He'll stop at nothing, and I mean nothing, to destroy our human existence!"

Mr. Jones sat for a bit, contemplating. "Perhaps he is misunderstood?"

Dib frowned, and started flicking the cards back and forth to avoid eye contact with the counselor. "If anything, _I'm_ the one who's misunderstood."

"How so?"

"The problem is, no one believes me! At all! Not even my family believes me! No one is on my side at all." Dib's voice began to trail off.

"I am sure someone does." Encouraged Mr. Jones.

"No. Nobody. No one even believes _IN_ me. My family, my supposed friends, acquaintances, people I don't even know... nobody." With medium brown eyes, the agent focused himself towards Mr. Jones. "Do you know what it's like?"

"Eh?" Dib caught the counselor off-guard.

"I said do you know what it's like?"

"What what is like?"

Dib managed a brief chuckle, then faded away to a shy, yet enticed tone. "To be misunderstood? Do you know what it's like to be misunderstood?"

The counselor paused, chastised by this question. In Dib's perspective, it appeared the counselor was never asked that question before, or was just uneasy of such a personal question. The counselor avoided any sort of eye contact with the curious boy at all. Finally, a soft and to the point answer came out "Yes."

The boy couldn't comprehend. "Huh?"

"I said yes. I've been misunderstood." Responded the counselor louder and with a rigid voice. Dib stepped back.

"It sucks, doesn't it?" Dib asked, relieved someone realized what it meant to be a nonentity in everyones' eyes.

"Yes, Dib, it really does." Replied the counselor. The counselor cleared his throat. "What makes you want to continue with your supposed 'mission', so to speak?"

"It's hard to say." Dib paused. "I ask myself why do I keep doing this when no one seems to care, but I think that I am afraid to stop for the sake of our planet. Even if no one believes me, it's still the fact that I believe in myself and I know I can do it. And maybe, eventually, people _will_ respect me. The supernatural is my life, and it always will be no matter what."

"I see." The counselor curtly replied. The counselor perked up, looked at the time, and widened his eyes. "It appears time's up. I must be going. I have another appointment about twenty minutes from now."

Dib sighed. "Alright."

The counselor gathered his things as swift as a racecar, and prepared himself for the final farewell. Dib was prepared as well. Dib helped lead the counselor out of his living area. The two stood staring at each other for an awkward moment. Finally, Mr. Jones turned and headed towards the direction of his house in the same swagger as before. Dib, without restraint, reached out to grab total attention of the counselor.

"Mr. Jones!"

Mr. Jones twirled around, surprised. "Yes?" He responded as formally as he possibly could.

Dib smiled widely. "Thank you for everything. I'll see you next week."

Mr. Jones smiled in return. "You're quite welcome."

How simple a door could break the connection between two people, Dib thought silently towards himself. Dib, astonishingly feeling relief, headed towards his bedroom, not even coming into realization that he was imitating the swagger of Mr. Jones.

* * *

Mr. Jones walked towards home in sunset lighting without that irritating swagger of his. The only thing the man seemed to focus his mind on was that horrid conversation that had occurred only minutes ago.

'_Do you know what it's like to be misunderstood?'_

'_Yes...'_

The tone Dib used, that seemed to pull him in for whatever reason, let his guard down completely. The counselor had to slap himself brutally in the face for that shameful mishap.

"I brought you TAQUITOES!" Cheered the robot-like voice in the far-away distance. Mr. Jones took notice to this familiar high-pitched voice, and dodged the taqutioes that nearly pierced him in the face.

"**GIR**! What did I say about throwing taquiiiitoes in my _GENERAL DIRECTION_?" Nagged "Mr. Jones".

"Uh... That... Ice cream!" Gir then pulled out ice cream from locations unknown, and started smearing it all over Zim's disguise.

"Mother of Irk! _Gir_! I worked on this costume **all night **last night! And now I got to do it again!" Zim complained.

"Yayyy!" Cheered the SIR Unit.

Zim moaned. "Let's go home."

As the two set afoot for their base, Zim gazed back in the direction of Dib's house with content eyes. _'I never knew...' _

Zim didn't finish.


End file.
